


A Night In

by Talullah



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 06:05:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2180769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/pseuds/Talullah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A late visit has an unexpected outcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night In

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to half_elf_lost for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Written for slashfest, for redconverse, who requested "Because if you're going to have illegal sex, you might as well really go for it. Preferably with an established Holmes/Watson relationship with Lestrade going along for a short-but-fun ride, but anything would be awesome."
> 
> Oh, I had a lot of fun using the Victorian euphemisms for erection. *grins*
> 
> [Disclaimer/Blanket Statement](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Talullah/profile)

"Ah, Watson!" Lestrade's voice filled the hall. "Is Holmes in?" he asked without even stopping to properly greet Watson, trying to reach the living room.

Watson stood in the way, clearly set on stopping him. "Inspector Lestrade! To what do we owe this honour at such a late hour?"

Lestrade took a proper look at Watson. The good doctor was flushed and there was a vague air of untidiness about him. He deducted he had fallen asleep in his chair with a book.

"I beg your pardon. It is a matter of some urgency, hence I would have not roused you from your sleep."

"I was not asleep," Watson exclaimed with a hint of indignation followed by a conspicuous blush.

Lestrade really did not care what he might have been doing. He simply wanted to talk to Holmes. "It is really important that I speak to Holmes," he insisted, stepping forward and making Watson step back.

"For the love of God, let the man in, Watson," Holmes shouted from the room.

Lestrade stepped around a dumbfounded Watson, who followed him stuttering 'buts'. The living room was cozy and well lit as always. Holmes sat in his chair, wearing his robe and a grin Lestrade knew from other impromptu visits. He had come to associate the grin with the consumption of certain substances. He had no time to dwell on the matter this night, though.

"We have a lead on the Norbury Thief. It is believed that he will leave the city tonight."

"And you are here because you need me to tell you where is he going and from where he will depart," Holmes deduced with a silly grin. Lestrade raised an eyebrow, causing Holmes to giggle as the investigator exposed a pale knee.

"Well, yes," Lestrade replied, vaguely annoyed. Perhaps this late visit had not been such a good idea after all. The image of the white knee made him hot under the collar and Holmes was obviously in a mischievous mood, and nothing good ever came of that.

Holmes was nonplussed, though. "Well, the answer to that is quite obvious, my dear Inspector." Lestrade raised an expectant eyebrow. Holmes smirked and wiggled his knee, thus exposing more pale flesh. "But first indulge me in a little curiosity. I promise your man won't escape."

Behind Holmes Watson rolled his eyes then covered them with a hand. Lestrade sighed and sat in front of Holmes. "How can I help you?"

"I would like to test your deductive powers..."

Lestrade nodded resignedly. He knew some intellectual humiliation was to follow. "Go ahead."

Holmes smirked. "I heard your little exchange with Watson there in the hall. From his aggravated ways and unkempt appearance you were quick to conclude that my friend had comfortably fallen asleep with his book in front of the fire. Perhaps you thought he had had a Port or two in excess, contributing to his ruddiness..." Holmes slipped a hand inside his robe and vaguely caressed his own chest. "I was wondering if no other explanation came to your mind and if so, what made you choose that particular hypothesis over the others that could arise from the same observations..."

Watson coughed as if he had choked on a toad and frowned. "Holmes, it is late. Let the man know what he needs..." he said in a tone Lestrade could have sworn sounded like begging.

Holmes grinned and crossed his legs the other way around, exposing even more flesh. His hand still moved on his chest in lazy circles. Lestrade wondered how flushed his own face might be and how deliberate Holmes's gestures were. He had never thought of the phlegmatic detective as a sensual creature, but his deductive powers and something that stirred below told him more was at stake than mere curiosity, as Holmes had said.

Holmes did not relent to Watson's request or his own blatant unease.

"Watson, relax. And do come closer. I believe that the good Inspector won't bite."

Timidly, Watson advanced a few steps to stand by Homes' side. Lestrade involuntarily ran a finger inside his collar when Holmes tugged Watson's sleeve, forcing him to sit on the arm of the chair.

"Now about the Norbury Thief," Lestrade started, trying to bring some semblance of normality to the conversation.

"Do not worry your handsome head with him," Holmes said. "He will go nowhere tonight, I assure you." He placed a possessive hand on Watson's thigh. "Returning to our lovely little chat, what other possible explanations crossed your mind upon finding my dear Watson here in disarray?"

Not waiting for an answer, Holmes slipped his hand up Watson's robe, in an obvious and obscene caress. Lestrade tried to rise but the sudden bulk in his groin impeded him from doing so and keeping his dignity.

Holmes looked up to Watson as if expecting a kiss, but Watson only frowned deeper. "Holmes, I told you I think this is a very poor idea. You should let the Inspector go about his business and we could all forgot this ever happened."

Holmes let out a laugh that sounded like a bark. "Nonsense! The Inspector wouldn't leave us now if wild horses dragged him, now would you?" he asked, casting a lascivious glance at Lestrade.

Lestrade lowered his eyes, trying to muster the wit and strength to leave, but his eyes fell on the tale-telling bulge that had formed in Holmes's lap. Before he could react, Holmes rose in a movement that was simultaneously indolent and elegantly quick, and straddled him on his chair.

"The time for games has ended, my friend," he said, pulling Lestrade's jacket off his shoulders. Lestrade vaguely heard Watson gasp, but the vision of Holmes's pale skin now completely exposed to his eyes turned him silent. He dared peek below, as Holmes deftly unknotted his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Like the man himself, Holmes's member was slim and long, elegant and pale, except for the purple head that glistened.

Everything was happening too quickly. Lestrade was a man of Scotland Yard, trained to quickly react to situations, but this one had stunned him. Before he knew it, Holmes had uncovered his shameful, treacherous organ and knelt before him, taking him into his mouth. Unwillingly, he shuddered. This was wrong, but it felt too good to be stopped.

Holmes looked up to him, a mischievous glint in his eyes and momentarily freed his mouth. "Well, Watson, don't you just stand there," he said, with a mix of amusement and impatience at his old friend.

He returned to his self-appointed task, showing the Inspector just how skilled he was. Behind him, Watson knelt, opening his robe. As Lestrade suspected, he also was not wearing anything underneath. He steadied Holmes' enthusiastic movements and mounted him in one swift move. Holmes did not so much as flinch. It was obvious that they were merely continuing something that Lestrade had unwittingly interrupted. He cringed because until that moment nothing that happened had been a crime and he had not been an accomplice to anything dire. Below, Holmes increased the suction, and started moaning, effectively silencing his thoughts of law, order and propriety. Watson moved in a steady hard rhythm that matched Holmes' mouth and threatened to take the Inspector's sanity away. The smell of sex and the sound of slapping flesh seemed to fill the small room, overwhelming him. He found himself pumping up into that graceful eager mouth, feeling his impending climax. Holmes chuckled and slowed the rhythm, pinching the base of his organ.

"Have no hurries, my dear Inspector," he panted.

Watson obeyed some unspoken cue and stopped moving, removing himself from Holmes. With a grin, Holmes rose from his knees. "My turn now," he said, turning around and sitting on Lestrade's lap, impaling himself on the engorged member. Lestrade had to make an effort not to sob in pleasure. He moaned in unison with Holmes the first time they moved. Watson, a pragmatic man, inched closer to them taking Holmes in his mouth. Their movements were now more violent and erratic than before but Watson showed remarkable coordination and skill, quickly bringing Holmes to his shuddering, wailing release. Holmes moved like a dervish on Lestrade's lap as the pleasure washed through him. After he stopped, Lestrade only needed a few more pumps to find his own release. Holmes lay back on his chest and both stayed there panting. Watson rose from his knees and drew closer.

"You were not forgotten my friend," Holmes said in a sated drowsy voice. Still with Lestrade inside him, he leaned forward, and used his considerable hand and mouth skills to complete the circle. The last thing Lestrade saw was Watson's familiar features contorted in an expression of pleasure and pain.

* * *

He woke with a start. He still sat in the same chair but his clothes were neatly buttoned. Holmes and Watson sat opposite, the first with a very familiar smirk, the second with a puppy smile. He sat up abruptly, as the events of the evening rushed back to him.

"No need to blush so, my friend," Holmes said. "Many men feel the need to nap a little after a particularly good...ride."

Lestrade swallowed the knot in his throat. "Erm...well, I should be going." He could not find an adequate place to set his eyes. Even the rug on the floor seemed to have conspicuous wet spots.

"I believe you came here with a purpose, didn't you?" Holmes insisted with the smile of a cat that had caught a mouse.

"Ah, well, yes. The Norbury Thief, right," Lestrade mumbled, adjusting his jacket.

"My dear Lestrade," Holmes continued in a humorous tone. "One of your men came by minutes before your arrival and asked me to inform you, in case you dropped by, that the man had been caught and was safely behind bars. So as you see," he continued with an unnerving grin, "you may have not been our first interruption this evening but you were certainly the most welcomed."

It did not occur to Lestrade to feel irritated. "Ah... thank you," he replied, stepping back towards the door, as one trapped in a cage with a tiger. "Good evening, then," he ventured with a note of relief when his hand caught the doorknob.

"Inspector?" Holmes called as he groggily crossed the threshold. Lestrade stopped and looked back.

"You are welcome to visit whenever you wish."

 

_Finis  
December 2006_


End file.
